Bringing in the Troll
by Buggzter
Summary: Follow Professor Quirrell and what he did to get the troll into Hogwarts, plus what he did once it was there. other chapters cover other scenes for Quirrell, so far just ones that are hinted at in the books. More to come! Thanks for any reviews.
1. Chapter 1

**(This is a funny, to-be-laughed-at piece)**

 **Bringing in the Troll**

1)

Professor Quirrell was in big trouble. Massive trouble. If he didn't find a way to fix the issue soon, he might not even survive more than another month. But how? How could he get up to the third floor corridor without being caught?

Someone was always up there. Filch, the stupid squib idiot that somehow managed to get the job of cleaning (poorly) the castle after all these brats made a disaster of it... well, he or his cat Mrs. Norris was out there making sure to catch any student trying to get through. After Professor Dumbledore said that it was off limits, what do you think all those imbecile children did? Many went right for the darn place! And if Filch and that cat were not there, Professor Snape or goodie two shoes McGonagall was somewhere nearby.

Quirrell knew about the three headed dog up there in the third floor corridor, since he was able to sneak up there right before the start-of-term feast began. No luck there, the bloody thing wouldn't let him properly open the door, let alone seeing what else is in the room to lead to the rest of the maze and other magical traps. He knew that many teachers put things in the maze, but he just didn't know who, or what. Yet.

After weeks of thought and the barest of escapes from being caught (he scraped by two of those times by claiming he thought he heard giggling near the stairs leading up there), Quirrell had it. He knew what he could do to get everyone, EVERYONE, away from the upper floors for just enough time to blast the giant fur ball and maybe figure out what to do next. He just needed help from his sister. Well, half-sister, really. He had hated dealing with her for her entire life. She always smelled awefully, just like something had died and she rolled in the ooze. Fortunately for Quirrell, she was half-troll.

Germunica, Professor Quirrell's sister, had other half-siblings. Many of those were full blooded trolls. She absolutely hated her eldest brother, Dubluchong. He couldn't find his way out of the outhouse most days, but then again, the outhouse had been there for only ten years. Most trolls took decades to get used to anything new. When her little ant of a brother told her he could get rid of the oaf, she went crazy with happiness. If Quirrell hadn't known to hide, he would have been smashed to bits while she destroyed the shack they were meeting in. Once Germunica calmed down, Quirrell gave her the option to knock Dubluchong out so he could be brought to the castle. When the huge moron was told he would be the smartest troll ever if he drank the flask's contents, he took it straight down and fell flat on his face.

Soon, thought Quirrell. Soon I will be praised by my master and he will finally see what a great wizard I am, and how much I can help him become great again.

2)

While the students and staff started the Halloween feast, Professor Quirrell levitated the knocked out troll to the potions classroom. Maybe while he wakes up, he could destroy Snape's precious room, snickered Quirrell. The idiot wants my job, but the stupid defector refused to search for our master and is now a tool for Dumbledore. What a joke! Now the joke is on them! Soon, my master will have that stone to make the elixir of youth, and I will be his champion at his side! Noone will be able to stop us!, he thought.

"ENNERVATE!" Dumb troll, thought Quirrell. He is going to take a lot to way up. After trying shock spells, fire spells, and even destruction spells on the troll's hands, he finally just shot a ton of boiling water at him until he started stirring. With a yell of fright, he ran upstairs to the great hall as fast as he could. It wouldn't do to have the oaf know it was a relative of the little twerpy sister that made him be lost inside a maze of stone!

Now, to put on some acting skills he picked up with his magical side show through Europe...

Seemingly panicked, Quirrell ran into the feast and yelled before apparently fainting away. "Troll! In the dungeon! Thought you oughta know"

3)

As soon as the stupid children stopped trampling him, Quirrell cast a charm to make him blend into his surroundings. He left as fast as he could to go to the third floor corridor and battle that freak of a canine which kept him from making his master happy. The first staircase started moving just before he reached the top. Soon after, he got stuck in a trick step on another staircase, but charmed a suit of armor to help him out.

Finally, after many such obstacles, Quirrell reached the third floor - too late! Stupid, sniveling, complaining, never - bathing Snape was already there! His leg was bleeding profusely from being grabbed by that monster, but Quirrell barely got away from him without being caught. He ran for it, knowing that no matter how much he had tried, he would be punished. Again. Would it just be pain from the cruciatis? Or would it be worse? His master said he knew many more that were much more terrible to withstand. He had tried, but he had failed.

Lord Voldemort would not be pleased.

A/N

This is my first bluish thing, and I decided to write for once for fun. If people want, and heck even if I am the only one who wants it, I may do all of book 1 from Quirrell's POV. That makes me think, I may eventually do all the books from another perspective (in a way to be laughed at)... in a few years at least! Hmmm, nearly 1000 words on my first one? Not bad!


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I will likely redo the story after a we chapters. I am writing from a really annoying tablet that keeps autocorrecting stupid things... so forgive me for my mistakes. I had my daughter read the story (she is 9) and she reviewed. I hope to keep her laughing at the silly stuff that happens, yet there will be serious stuffs too. Remember, I am not a writer. I am an overworked pharmacy tech, mother of 2, gardener, and wife to a disabled but wonderful man. I write for fun and to make my daughter laugh hysterically. The end good bye. ;) nah, I will stick around.

Chapter 2: what are we guarding?

After a night of torture, Quirrell thought back to when he was asked to help guard that darn thing, trying to figure out where things went wrong, what he could have done differently to make everything work in his favor, and maybe find a way out of his mess he made.

"Quirinus, I would like you to contribute to the maze of protective obstacles also," said Headmaster Dumbledore a few days before the start of term. "The more layers to a cake, the harder it is to eat the entire thing."

That got the anxious proffessor's attention. Cake? "M-m-me, sir? I know how to protect against dark magic and creatures, not making traps!" Professor Quirrell wanted to know what other protections were being given at the school to some sort of dangerous item or creature Dumbledore wanted to protect. For that matter, he wanted to know what they were protecting! But no one knew other than the stuck up bearded old kook and whoever asked to hide... whatever it is.

"Yes, you. I know you are highly capable to provide security for my good friend. He would not ask us to hide this item if he did not know I had some of the best minds at our school. I know the run in with those vampire clans in Europe damaged your confidence, but there is so much potential under that new turbin of yours," Dumbledore firmly stated.

Quirrell was worried. Professor Dumbledore walked off humming the school song and twiddling his hands, yet Quirrell thought he must know something, why else mention his turbin? Although, it was a new part of his wardrobe. He never wore some thing so silly before his last European trip where he found someone who would change his life and give him direction and power in life. People would run from him if he did not keep it on, but he 9 ny had to help find a solution to his master's problem before being able to claim his rightful place at the master's side - instead of being closer than he knew two minds could ever be.

This... thing that needed protection. It needed some thought. Why would someone want to protect anything at the school? Yes, Hogwarts had want charms against detection by muggles and travelling into the school from, well, anywhere else. But how could a place filled with kids and few teachers hide somehing? How safe could something be with a bunch of curious troublemakers and a handful of adults watching them actually be?

Quirrell sighed. He needed to know what the object was before he chose what to help guard it with. "Headmaster? Some items I could use may be interfered with by magical abilities of certain creatures, while other magical creatures may cause issues with the situation as well. What am I helping guard? I don't want to endanger it with whatever I give you for the wards." Quirinus Quirrell hoped beyond hope that Dumbledore would not see through him when he said all that. He knew that one wrong move and he would get chucked into Azkaban faster than you could say Quiddich. Although, he thought, that may be easier to deal with than the torture of the Dark Lord being with you, knowing your most intimate thoughts at all times.

"Not to worry my dear man!" Dumbledore laughed gently. "My friend Nicholas Flamel and I have made sure that nothing can affect the stone while it is here. He just needs to get away from it for awhile to think about life and what he wants to make of it right now. I offered to watch over it instead of letting it lie in a cold dark vault."

Quirrell's eyes lit up with that statement. "Stone? Y-y-y-y-you m-mean the sorcerers stone? We get to take care of it? Here? Can we see it? Can we... touch... it?" His eyes glazed over in thoughts about the most coveted item in the Wizarding world. Suddenly it came to him. The stone could be the saving grace to fix his situation. He didnt need gold, but the elixor would be invaluable to a certain someone he had had very close to hi for far too long. Wait. Vault? Where else are there vaults other than Gringotts?

Quirrell laughed joyfully. "Oh, um. That is brilliant, letting so many teachers with so many tablets protect the stone, I am honored to help. But how is it getting here?" Professor Quirrell didn't notice he had stopped stuttering. "I mean, we are doing a other to keep it safe here, is it being kept jse as safe now? What about transporting such a precious item?"

Dumbledore smiled at the younger man. "No need to worry, the safety of the object I question is being taken care of. No one will suspect anything. We just need to prepare a safe place for it to stay for the greater part of a year. It may also interest you that Harry Potter will be entering Hogwarts in jest a few more weeks as well, you may even run into him in Dragon Alley if you go. Tata."

Professor Quirrell was furious with himself. Not only did he screw up one possible grab for the stone before it reached the school, now he had Severus Snape watching his every move. He still didn't know how much Dumbledore knew of his predicament. Heck, he knew if he went to Dumbledore and told him what happened, Quirrell was positive Dumbledore would know how to fix everything and would not be mad even - just understanding.

But how could he face such a man and tell him he betrayed their world for the hopes of eternal glory and renown for helping the greatest dark wizard return to his glory and power again? Quirrell hoped his thoughts were quiet enough that Voldemor wouldn't find out of his doubts. He didnt want to give him more reasons to curse him. He was punished enough regularly as it was.

He groaned as he got up to spell another dead cow to travel to the dungeon where the other troll was. His sister only agreed to let him drag away her father if he fed him well. Quirrell sneered at the thought of his troll step-dad. After years of abuse, he at last put his step dad to good use: keeping out others that tried to get to the stone. He knew just how to knock the oaf out quicky. Quirrell grimaced as he thought about what to do next in the hopes of putting off more punishment from his master.

A/N 2... neat, another 200 words ish on this chapter! I think I am going to do most or all of Quirrell's scenes from the book from his perspective, and a few that are hinted at as well. It will take awhile, but it might just happen. Reviews would be helpful as this is my first writing in over a decade, and my first for he fun of it outside of little kid drabbles. Thank you! ~Buggy


	3. Chapter 3

(repost - finished the chapter today. Yesterday I promised my daughter I would post more of the story, so I sent it out without finishing. Oh well now it's done!)

A/N - sorry, darker chapter to an extent. My daughter is now also asking me to write all the other books in the perspectives of other characters. *sigh* Any ideas? Lupin for book 3, for example (She said Sirius, which I might do a combo of both, really, but Lupin has more to him... we'll see), but I have no ideas yet for the others. Again, just for fun to see what comes out of this odd head of mine!

Chapter 3

(two years ago)

Quirinus Quirrell had needed a break. He began to loath his job, as many students thought the subject he taught at Hogwarts was (as they put it) lame. Muggle studies. What a joke. Some students came from muggle parents, but most of the ones he had encountered lately were useless. They didn't study, they didn't do homework, they were disrespectful in class, and they were pushovers generally. Many other students, generally the pureblood brats who mostly came from Slytherin, put the muggle brats in their place any chance they got. That was fine with Quirrell, especially since most of the students regularly made fun of him. Those Slyterins also made fun of him, but he only felt it fair - he felt he was pretty pathetic, too.

After years of teaching Muggle studies, Quirrell was done. He needed to something else, something big. Unfortunately, he had no idea WHAT that "big" thing should be. A friend of his named Charity Burbage suggested he take a sabbatical year and journey throughout the continent to see what inspired him. He knew he could keep to the magical communities when he had to encounter people, but most of the time he could interact with magical creatures instead. Not only that, but he knew of rumors of Lord Voldemort having been in certain places before his rise to fame. Maybe he could locate those places where the Dark Lord found his power and inspirations. For that matter, maybe the Dark Lord was still alive, hiding in one of his secret, remote locations that no one knew of. Quirrell was clever enough that he might just be able to track such locations down, and become powerful himself. The idea fascinated him, so he put in a request for a year off to "find" himself. Headmaster of the school, Albus Dumbledore, was elated to give him such a time of 'self reflection.'

"Quirinus, I will need someone to teach your classes in the meantime. You may need to teach a different subject next year if that is OK," stated Dumbledore.

Quirrell snorted. "I think this sabbatical will let me know more of who I am and who I want to become, so teaching something else will be a welcome change when I return. Do you know what I may be teaching instead?"

"Defense against the dark arts, most likely," chuckled Dumbledore. "You know how hard a time I have to find someone that wants to stick with the class. I think they get nightmares from what they teach, and run away screaming. Fortunately, you have been a wonderful teacher and may be able to face your demons in such a class better than you realize. Things may change, though."

"Very good. I will let you know no later than next May if my plans to return have changed." Quirrell thought for a moment. "Is there something you suspect I'll find in my travels? You seem to not be saying everything you are thinking." What else is new, he thought to himself.

"As always, I have things I suspect from rumors and wispers and ideas that run through my head. After all, I am not a spring chicken and have had time over my years to learn how to guess and guess well!" Dumbledore patted Professor Quirrell on the shoulder. "My dear man, you have many adventures ahead of you. I hope you find yourself to be the man you hope you are as you face them down."

As Professor Quirrell turned to leave, Dumbledore stopped him briefly. "Quirinus, please do remember to take something to cover your head during your travels. I have a feeling you will need it after awhile, especially after visiting Romania. Have fun now, off you go!"

Quirinus Quirrell was **_happy_**! While traveling, he could tell stories that were not totally true, but eaten up by the locals - things he did, people he had saved, monsters he had supposedly killed. He listened to their stories as well, which gave him more ideas of what to say in the next town he stopped in. He had decided he was tired of being unimportant where he was, so he kept embellishing his stories the best he could while trying to keep them believable. No such luck sometimes - he forgot to keep his stories straight, and the townsfolk in certain places began to ignore him. Whenever that happened, Quirrell became furious with himself and swore to cause the town to be cursed before he drowned his sorrows in firewhiskey. After a day of recovering from drinking WAY too much alcohol (nothing he would ever recommend to anyone else!), he would move on to the next town.

After a few weeks of traveling, when townsfolk heard of his apparent deeds in other areas, Quirrell began to be asked to get rid of magical pests or dangerous creatures or disturbances that were troubling the town. Once he was asked to get rid of a hag, so he just asked her if she wanted to learn some beauty charms to hide her features - she did, and the people living in the area didn't know any better than a new, beautiful, and talented witch just moved into the area and the hag was never heard from again! The next hag wouldn't hear anything of it, and chased him away with bats... Luckily, Quirrell was able to shake of the experience and continue his journey of helping people and gaining renown. Another time, he was asked to get rid of some trolls. That was easy - they were cousins of his step sister (who happened to be a troll herself), and he asked them to go visit their relatives for a few months before returning. All seemed to be going great for him, even facing bogarts were not that bad. Those unfortunately turned into a version of himself, all in rags and weeping over how aweful of a wizard he was and unable to do anything of worth and no one looked up to him. He learned to beat them, however, by turning them each into the simple-minded Dumbledore who was acting the same as the Quirrell-bogart did. It was so gratifying to see the old fool look that way, so Quirrell left one bogart in a locked cupboard for three weeks just to keep repeating the experience!

His feeling of gain in power and renown was short lived, however. After only traveling for three months, Quirinus Quirrell ran into the worst trouble he could imagine. A nest of vampires had dug themselves into a large cave system just outside Albania, and the locals begged him to rid them of the terrors. If he had been asked just a month before, he would have backed down - his confidence in himself was so low. But since he had so many successful times of ridding people of their problems since, he felt he was becoming a hero. What else would continue that claim to fame but killing an entire nest of vampires? And so he went.

Not until three days later did Quirrell realize that was the worst mistake of his life thus far.

"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!" Anyone within a mile of the cave where the vampires lived in decent comfort would have heard that screech, although they would think it was some dying animal screaming in it's final fears. They would have been wrong, however.

Quirinus Quirrell was doing his best to flee as if his life depended on it, for it did. The head of the vampire clan was furious with him, and had come to collect his head as a warning to anyone else trying to destroy his family. Three of his daughters and one son had already been beheaded by this monster of a human, but the father wouldn't allow one more death in his family if he could help it. Thus, he came out during daylight hours, hunted down the man's campsite, and attacked.

Quirrell, however, had set up a contingency plan just in case things had gone badly. He placed a portkey just outside of his campsite. When he saw the vampire clan father coming for him, it scared the daylights out of Quirrell but he had the sense to run for the portkey. Just before the vampire grabbed him, he touched the ancient chamber pot that was the portkey, which dragged him instantaneously to the town which had asked him to kill the vampires.

When the townsfolk saw Quirrell show up without the heads of the vampire clan, they were quite confused. That is, until they began to realize that the screech they heard was Quirinus Quirrell's, and he had failed. He was mortified at his failure, but moreso at the state of his soiled pants. He hadn't even had enough money in his pockets to pay for a new set of trousers, let alone get the ones he wore clean. For many days after, the pants smelled of pee.

After hiding out for nearly three weeks, Quirrell gathered his courage once more to approach his campsite where all his belongings were. Fortunately for him, the vampires didn't care at all about his things, which were of poor quality as it was. During those three weeks of waiting, though, Quirrell had heard strange rumors about a presence in a forest not too far from the vampire caves. Maybe, just maybe he had found one of the Dark Lord's hideouts where he learned the craft of the dark arts? Perhaps Quirrell himself could use the magic seeped into the place to strengthen his own abilities and his knowledge.

Days and days of searching ended fruitlessly. There was something hiding the magic of the area, but Quirrell knew there was SOMETHING there! On day 13 of searching he found something! He found a dead animal, drained of it's life energy. That could only be done by magic. Quirrell realized he had found other animals every couple days, but had not checked them closely to know whether they had faced the same fate. Each was dead and not eaten, though, which is quite strange for a place in the middle of nowhere with only wild animals around. Was Lord Voldemort still alive, hiding in Albania? Was he draining those animals so he could become even more powerful, more frightening than before? Quirrell decided that he would do anything to find out what was happening. He desired the power the Dark Lord had, and he knew that that powerful wizard, no matter what condition he was in, would be able to teach him as well. He could then become one of the most powerful wizards in the world. No one would dare laugh at him anymore then!

Quirrell's imagination ran wild with the possibilities, but he never really thought about what he would do if he ran into Lord Voldemort. How would he know it was him, anyways? He was said to have died nearly 10 years before, totally destroyed. Was there something else helping him live on? What could it be? What sort of darkness was this amazing wizard able to tap into? How could Quirrell find out if he were not alive, and how could he convince the wizard to let him serve if Voldemort was indeed alive?

After a long month of searching, Quirinus Quirrell found a tree stump that seemed to radiate magic. It was not "white" magic, but as dark as Quirrell had ever felt. It felt to him like old, dried blood and decay.

(rest of the chapter, now written/base-checked)

Quirrell tentatively reached out his hand to the ancient rotting wood in front of him. He desired the power he felt pouring out from it, desired the importance he would feel if he possessed it. Just before he made contact, a jolt of dark magic went through his hand. Before losing consciousness, Quirrell felt the magic fill his entire body and a presence of darkness laughed within his mind.

Slowly, Quirrell came to sense he was not the only one here. Where "here" was, he didn't know - but he was not alone. He did not remember where he was, or what happened, but he knew something was wrong. Very very wrong. Quirrell tried to open his eyes but could not. He tried to move his arms and legs, but he could not do hat either. He tried to speak, but still nothing.

"What a shame, isn't it," a silky voice said. "You not having control of your own self? Would you like me to open your eyes?"

'Yes!" thought Quirrell. "but why are you able to do it, and not me?"

"A very good question, but I don't answer questions usually. I can use you though, so I will put up with it - for now. When you found my hiding place, in your head you were wanting to help me. That opened your mind to me to take over. I now control you. I can give that control back, if I choose to. If and when. As long as I am here, inside you, I have whatever control I want over you. As long as you behave, as long as you help me, I shall let you have yourself back. That will be up to you.

"Who are you?" thought Quirrell. He was scared. There was no magic that he knew of that could do this: have total control of another, to the point of the other not knowing anything about what is going on. He had wanted to find Voldemort, or at least the Dark Lord's magical secrets. Did he succeed? If this was Voldemort that he found, Quirrell know he would do anything to gain the knowledge, the confidence to be looked up to - to be a leader who was respected, not someone to be mocked and ridiculed.

"Tell me," the voice said, "why are you looking for the Dark Lord? What did you hope to find?"

"I am looking for respect. For power." Quirrell was trembling. "I know that there is evidence for him having been here at one point. His magic, his power has left a mark here. I want to know what it is he knew, what he learned of magic. I want to have a hint of the power he had."

"You are not enough to carry such power. You are weak!" The voice cackled long and loud.

"Everyone has always told me that!" yelled Quirrell. "I can't stand the looks I'm given. The derision given me." He mentally stomped his foot in frustration. "I want respect. I want the masses to bow down to my power. But more than that, if I can, I want to follow you, my lord. For you are the Dark Lord, your power could belong to no one else!"

'Very good. As it happens, I am in need of a servant. No matter how minor your abilities may be, they can be made useful to me. Truthfully, it doesn't matter if you are willing. I will use your body and mind either way. The only question is whether you will help me willingly. I can give you all you dream of and more if you are willing to serve me. If you are not, I will use you until you are nothing but a husk to throw away."

"My Lord!" Quirrell was stunned. "I have loved the darker magics since I was a boy. I have desired to serve you for many years, but until recently I did not feel I had anything to offer you except my devotion. Please let me serve you. I will do anything you ask!"

"Your devotion?" Lord Voldemort said. "There is something I can work with. I need your help procuring a body - one of my own. I do not wish to continue borrowing from these minor life forms as I have been."

"It was you, then? I have found dead snakes and rodents and even a fox that were perfectly healthy outside of their minds were destroyed. You are marvelous, my lord! Please, use me as you see fit. I am yours to command."

Soon, Quirrell felt the presence leave his body. In front of him loomed a dark shadow, nearly solid but not quite. The voice in Quirrell's head spoke out of the shadow. "If you serve me faithfully, worm, you shall have all that you desire. You are the first and only one who has searched me out, and for that I will reward you by allowing you to stand at my side when we retake this nation and then the world. My power is currently weak, but it will grow strong with your help. Do not fear, I will guide you. But if you disobey me or fail, you will be punished."

After a month of searching for magical items and potions for his master, Quirrell was told they were ready to leave Albania and return to England. Only there, stated Lord Voldemort, could he get what he needed to gain a body again. Quirrell knew the process would take a long time, but he was determined to win the praise of his master. Soon he would return to teach at Hogwarts, and the forest there held many magical creatures that would be put to great use for his master. As the Dark Lord gained strength, his magic would return as well. Maybe soon they would be able to get the ingredients needed for the spell to return Lord Voldemort to a true human form. Quirinus Quirrell was willing to do whatever he could to gain the Dark Lord's favor and blessings. For now, unicorn blood would be the best food for his master, as it would keep him alive and help him become stronger. For now, they would have to lay low as Quirrell researched what could be done to return his master to glory. There had to be something he could find at Hogwarts, or at least in the library there.

Quirrell sent a letter by owl to Professor Dumbledore, accepting the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, if it were still open for the next year. In the letter he wrote, "I feel like the position has been waiting for me to come along and take it, to shape the program for our students. Some may think the job is cursed, but I see it as a challenge - a challenge to grow and become more than I have been before."

A/N wow, over 3000 words? That's unheard of for me! WOOT! I'm getting much better at this. :) Please review, let me know what to change, what to grow, what you'd like to see. :) Again, this is my first fanfic and first story since I was in school 12 years ago. I'm excited to get some of my daydreams down on figurative paper. ;)


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